


Marin Karin

by writing_regen



Series: This Could Not Get Any Worse, Right? (WRONG) [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BRAINWASHING HAS SO MUCH ANGST POTENTIAL YOU GUYS, Brainwashing, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Im a sucker for happy endings, M/M, Not Beta Read, We Die Like Men, can be read as platonic or romantic, im gonna capitalize, im weak for these boys, ryuji needs a hug, so does akira, so i chickened out of the angst, they love each other they just dont know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_regen/pseuds/writing_regen
Summary: He was so distracted by the thought that he didn’t see the attack coming, and by the time he noticed something was wrong, it was already too late.God, it was always fuckin’ Akira wasn’t it?His grip tightened around the pipe and he pushed himself back to his feet. Except, that wasn’t at all what he had meant to do, and it was like his focus had zeroed in on Joker, who looked a little relieved to see him back on his feet, but kept sending worried glances back his way.He wanted to scream, to warn him that he definitely shouldn’t feel any relief at the moment. But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he took a step closer, silent.He had never felt more trapped than he did in that moment and the ones that followed, forced to take a backseat to his own actions, a spectator to what he hadn’t even realized was his worst nightmare.In which: Status ailments take a turn for the worse and Ryuji is forced to confront himself





	Marin Karin

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be short i spent two weeks working on this and its over 7000 words

The past few days had been going good - great even. He’d made it to school on time each day, hadn’t fallen asleep in any of his classes, and even their Mementos runs had been easy (although he’d give a lot of that credit to Akira. Dude was fuckin’ scary in the Metaverse).

All in all, Ryuji should really have been expecting shit to hit the fan - but somehow it still surprised him. 

It’d started off pretty normal he’d like to think. A Phantom Thieves meeting had been called after school, and they were all gathered in the (kinda generously named) hideout, leaning against the railing and framed by the blazing sun as though they themselves were but silhouettes - shadows to passerby. Akira had mentioned they had a few requests to deal with in Mementos while they waited for any information on their next target, and Morgana had gone on to launch into a long and entirely too detailed explanation of what and who exactly the targets were. Sure, Ryuji listened enough to be righteously outraged and determined to do something, but not enough to remember exactly what warnings or prerequisites Morgana gave for their inferred difficulty of the target (based on the kinds of “sins” the target committed, their depth in Mementos could be pretty accurately guessed, but Morgana and Akira would lead them there either way so it wasn’t like  _ he  _ needed to know exactly where they were going. Even if he did know, he’d probably get them lost anyway). 

Soon enough, there was a shared enthusiasm from the group, and between one blink and the next, he feels the familiar weight of a pipe in his hands and the cool touch of a mask across his nose, the voice of Captain Kidd washing over his mind like the waves of an ocean. He grinned, it was always refreshing to enter the Metaverse and feel his bond with Kidd click back into place, sometimes he almost envied Akira for feeling that way all the time, until he remembered the dark circles ringing his friend’s eyes more often than not, and the way some days there was so much noise in his head Ryuji was stuck helping nurse him through a killer migraine.

But still. For him, it was nice, like a confidence he thought he had lost years ago rising within him again. 

Moments later, Ryuji found himself squashed into the back of the Monabus between Yusuke and Ann (they had had a vicious rock-paper-scissors battle to decide who got stuck in the center and Ryuji lost. Badly). Makoto was in the front - though he always wondered why she didn’t just use her Persona instead of being stuck inside a cramped van with then. He knew he would take the first opportunity to escape this he could - next to Akira who was driving like always, looking focused while the rest of them engaged in a light banter to pass the time cruising through the depths. 

Their first target was pretty early on, and over pretty easily. Morgana hadn’t needed to use any healing spells, and Akira had figured out their weakness almost immediately, how, Ryuji would never understand, but he found it hard to question when he was too busy relishing in the feeling of electricity crackling across his skin and the sound of Kidd’s booming laughter as they let loose with a Zio that knocked the enemy off their feet. Although he did purposefully tune out the way Arsene immediately hopped on the opportunity to gush to his Persona, and by the slight hints of a grimace on Joker’s face, he was trying to ignore it as well, even as Ann cackled at the display like it didn’t happen every time they entered the Metaverse.

It was easy enough to convince the Shadow to return to its conscious self, although Ryuji had to hide the wave of  _ definitely not needed _ contempt that rushed through him as it sniveled and begged for their forgiveness as if  _ they were  _ the ones owed any sort of apology. He wasn’t sure if the scoff after it left was from him or Kidd.

It was only deeper into Mementos that things started to get difficult, Shadows only get tougher the further down they go, and there were  _ way  _ too many close calls and moments of almost panicked healing for Ryujis’s comfort. He was  _ almost _ tempted to suggest that they leave the next target for another time or  _ at least  _ take a breather one of the rest areas when he saw Joker sway dangerously on his feet after a particularly close battle, only saved when Clotho (Joker’s current Persona) made a noise that alerted Yusuke to steady him, much to his poorly veiled chagrin. Makoto drove after that.

Later he would very, very much regret his choice to stay quiet in that moment.

By the time they finally found their target, they were exhausted, sore, and short-tempered, but determined to get this  _ over with.  _ Maybe it was a little bit of spite for having to put up with all the fights to get down here, but at this point, Ryuji would take what energy he could get. When they exited the van before confronting their target, Ryuji was taken aback by just how  _ dark  _ the area was, like the darkness was physically clinging to the walls, It sent unease racing down his spine, only slightly tempered by the confidence radiating off of the rest of the team, Joker especially, who seemed to be carrying himself with a composed ease. He couldn’t imagine how he was doing it, considering ten minutes beforehand the guy was barely able to stay upright, but at that moment he was the splash of determination they all needed to feel like they could take on the world and forget the weariness that pulled at their bones. Ryuji envied and admired him for his easy ability to spark that confidence in people, but he couldn’t help but smile back when he turned and offered a wicked grin, sharp and almost predatory and very  _ Joker.  _

They got this. It would be fine. It always was.

Ok, so it wasn’t going great, but it could have been a lot worse. Their initial burst of determination and energy had worn off as the fight dragged on, to the point that even Joker was barking orders with more force than was necessary and Morgana looked ready to flay someone each time they got so much as a scratch, screeching about how they “couldn’t perform any more healing spells so get their shit together and get going”. Which, okay, yeah. He could definitely get with the sentiment of kicking this Shadow’s  _ ass  _ so he could take the world’s longest nap. 

He was so distracted by the thought that he didn’t see the attack coming, and by the time he noticed something was wrong, it was already too late. 

Very suddenly, everything felt muffled, like he was experiencing the moments through a thick layer of cotton. He barely noticed the moment his knees hit the pavement, and most of the others were too busy trying to stay on  _ their  _ feet to take much notice. Except for Joker, almost immediately his gaze flickered over to him, creased in concern.

God, it was always fuckin’ _Akira, _wasn’t it?  
His grip tightened around the pipe and he pushed himself back to his feet. Except, that wasn’t at all what he had meant to do, and it was like his focus had zeroed in on Joker, who looked a little relieved to see him back on his feet but kept sending worried glances back his way.

He wanted to scream, to warn him that he definitely shouldn’t feel  _ any  _ relief at the moment. But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he took a step closer, silent.

He had never felt more trapped than he did in that moment and the ones that followed, forced to take a backseat to his own actions, a spectator to what he hadn’t even realized was his worst nightmare. 

By the time Ryuji had drawn nearly level, Joker had abandoned his attempts to focus on the battle retreating just slightly to focus on Skull a frown etched into his features like the  _ stupidly trusting  _ friend he was. 

“Skull? I don’t know exactly what happened earlier but it must’ve been a pretty heavy hit, are you alr-” Joker didn’t get to finish his questions, the heavy metal pipe held in Ryuji’s white-knuckled grip whipping across the side of his face and sending him reeling back a number of paces, caught off-guard and unbalanced. 

If it had been from anyone else, Joker would have been able to see the movement before it even really started and been able to leap out of the way with a grace that Ryuji found almost feline. But because it was  _ him, _ because it was  _ Ryuji _ , he hadn’t. Had let his guard down, hadn’t been on alert, hadn’t been looking for those signs of movement.

Because why would he ever think to when the most violent Ryuji had been towards him was a light punch on the shoulder in retaliation? 

When Joker turned to look back at him, there was a nasty looking gash along his cheekbone and blood was dripping down his chin from his lip. Worse, was the wide-eyed look of shock, confusion, and so many layers of indescribable  _ hurt  _ that he was withering under the gaze peering at him from a mask spider-webbed in cracks along the left side. 

“Ry - Skull, wh-” Akira stiffens almost imperceptibly, if Ryuji didn’t know him as well as he did, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. For the briefest of seconds, his gaze flickered to Arsene, who was standing just behind him, and then to Captain Kidd, who nodded, and didn’t look so hot himself.

The confusion on his face slowly melted to a grim sort of understanding at the confirmation, and with one last glance at the Shadow, who was finally  _ finally  _ starting to look as exhausted as they were, turned back to Ryuji with something sharp in his gaze, a steady determination that he had seen many times but never directed at him.

The spike of nerves in his system was quickly tempered when he felt his arm raising once more, watching Joker move only at the last possible second, like a deadly game of cat and mouse. 

He wasn’t sure which was which. 

Joker was focused, that much Ryuji could tell. But the dumbass was so obviously holding back, only ever dodging and never once attempting to retaliate. He knew Joker had to have a Persona that could knock him down in one hit but he refused to so much as even try for it. It was so goddamn frustrating to watch, especially seeing how obviously exhausted the guy was and knowing deep in his heart that it was only a matter of time before that fatigue meant a mistake. 

He had never been less happy to be right.

In what felt like hours but was probably only moments, Ryuji spotted an opening at just about the same moment Akira realized there was an opening, judging by the slight stutter in his steps. With a sense of finality Ryuji tried his damndest to ignore, the metal made a solid connection against Akira’s ribs, and he felt the snap more than heard it as his leader was sent sprawling across the slick floors of Mementos, suddenly wheezing for breath. 

Even curled on the floor, instinctively trying to himself, blood dripping down his chin and mask slowly flaking away, Joker’s eyes were so  _ stupidly  _ soft, full of understanding and sorrow but not for  _ him _ . Never for himself. Not when he was bleeding, not when he was sick, not when he was  _ this close  _ to breaking down under the pressure of it all - the sadness in Akira’s eyes was never for himself. But just this once,  _ just this fuckin’ once _ , Ryuji wished it was. Wished more than anything there was anger and drive or at least  _ something  _ other than the resigned sort of acceptance and tiny smile that was there now. 

They both knew Akira wasn’t getting back up. Not with the way his arms shook just from holding up his torso and not with how every time he coughed it was stained with red. Not without help, and everyone else was desperately trying to take down the Shadow so he wouldn’t need it.

Ryuji felt like screaming. Like he was pounding on locked doors inside his own mind and getting nothing but his own cries echoing back in response because this was all so  _ wrong _ . But the most his effort got him was a tremor in his hands and another step closer to Akira. 

Instead of raising his arm, Ryuji felt his leg lifting, and in a twisted way he guessed it made more sense with Akira on the ground and basically immobile. It didn’t make it any easier when his boot connected across Akira’s face, and it didn’t lessen his horror when the normally stoic thief couldn’t bite back a strangled cry when his head bounced off the floor.

Still. Even now. When Akira looked back up, mask completely broken in half in a jagged line over the bridge of his nose and blinking like he was having trouble focusing on anything,  _ still _ , he looked up at Ryuji like he hung the  _ fucking _ moon and he didn’t know whether he wanted to vomit or burst into tears at the look he didn’t deserve in the slightest.

His foot lifted again and in a surge of desperation he felt it stall in the air for a moment, and there is no rush of victory because it  _ wasn’t enough.  _ It’s never  _ fucking enough _ , is it? And Akira let out a small, broken whimper at the impact on his already injured ribs and at this point, Ryuji is sure he didn’t even realize he was doing it and it shattered Ryuji in ways he didn’t know he could be broken. 

Another impact to the side of his head and Akira’s head snapped to the side and  _ doesn’t turn back _ . 

Ryuji was sure he’s crying now even through the goddamn Shadow messing with his head but before he could so much as take a breath, his body froze. It was like every joint in his body locked up, and then in the space of another breath it's like his strings have been cut, a marionette with no master as he crumbles to his knees next to Akira’s prone form and he couldn’t even relish in the fact he’s in control of his own body again. Couldn’t even take joy in being able to feel the electricity his connection with Kidd crackling at the back of his mind because what was the point if he was already too goddamn late? Too weak to do anything as his own body beat and battered his best friend, his hero, who just took it because he would  _ never  _ raise a hand against Ryuji.

He couldn’t even imagine it.

And he had never hated himself more than in that moment. 

Distantly, he could hear the conversation between the rest of the Phantom Thieves and the Shadow, trying to get it to return to its cognitive self and repent. He couldn’t care less in that moment if it never returned and died on the spot.

For a split, flaming second, he was tempted to secure that ending for himself, to be rid of the crackling energy still under his skin and to try and escape the suffocating guilt. 

But he had more important things to take care of. 

Gingerly, like it would break if he so much as looked at it wrong, Ryuji took one of Akira’s hands into both of his own, whispering apologies like a broken record against his gloved knuckles. 

He knew that were Akira awake he would try to tell him about how it wasn’t his fault and how it was okay, but it  _ wasn’t _ . It was about as far from okay as they could possibly be in that moment, with Akira unconscious and his breaths labored and wheezing and Ryuji had just been too weak to do anything about it.

Too weak to tell them to go back earlier in the day when he  _ knew  _ he should have said something.

Too distracted to notice the spell being cast before it was too late.

Unable to do anything but watch as it happened.

It was all  _ his fucking fault _ .

He was only snapped out of the downward spiral by the arrival of the others. Ann fell to her knees on Akira’s other side, eyes wide and horrified at the state of his prone figure.

Yusuke was stoic as always, but his lips flattened into a thin line as his gaze flickered between the two, easily slotting the pieces together like viewing a painting he didn’t want to see.

Makoto was… trying. She was trying to be the composed rock somebody needed to be now that Akira had been removed from the equation. But her eyes kept flickering to the floor, to the walls, to the ceiling, like she couldn’t keep her gaze on Akira for long before she would crack, even as she crouched down, delicately placing one hand on the side of his neck to feel for his pulse. He didn’t like the way her lips tugged downwards.

Ryuji didn’t want to look at Futaba, who stood further away than anybody else with wide, wet eyes and shook like a leaf.

Haru just placed a hand on his shoulder. Like he was the one who needed comforting. 

Ryuji would never say it, but it was Morgana who finally managed to take control of the situation, despite their grim tone of voice.

“I… don’t want to move him since we don’t  _ really  _ know what’s wrong…” Everyone purposefully avoided looking at Ryuji as they said that, “but we can’t stay here. We’re in no shape to even  _ think  _ about facing the Reaper. We have to keep moving. Ann, Makoto, can you ca-”

“I got him,” Ryuji interrupted, surprising even himself. But he knew it was the only way.

He had to prove to himself and the others that his hands could do more than harm. 

Ignoring the poorly veiled wary looks sent his way, and the same voice in his own head telling him he had no right to even be anywhere near Akira after what he had done, he gently slid his arms underneath Akira, one under his knees and one under his shoulders, before slowly pushing himself back to his feet, a little taken aback at how light the other boy was in his arms. 

By the time he was properly situated, Akira’s head lolling limply against his shoulder and one arm hanging down, he could almost pretend the other boy was just asleep. 

It wasn’t like he had never found Akira passed out at the booth in Leblanc or other odd places and had to carry him back to his room or otherwise dealing with his complaining when he woke up.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t conjure the light-hearted imagery. Not with red still dripping down Akira’s chin and matting the hair at the back of his head. Not with the way nobody seemed quite able to look him in the eye, even as they helped him get settled in the back of the Monabus with Akira leaning against his shoulder and one arm securely around his back to keep him upright. Not with the silence where there would normally be light-hearted banter as they made their way back towards the entrance of Mementos. 

Not when he couldn’t convince himself he had any right to pretend all of this was okay. Not when he had caused it. 

Instead, he found himself focusing on trying to keep Akira from being jostled too much by the bumpy ride back, keeping close and secure against his side.

Then he was focused on trying to carry him back to Leblanc without anybody getting suspicious of why they were hauling around an unconscious teenager who looked like he had been beaten to hell (he had, after all, but they couldn’t know that). 

It was like the universe took pity on them when they finally made it back to Leblanc to find the lights off and the door locked. They all knew where Sojiro kept the spare anyway. 

The stairs were… an ordeal, but they made it without incident, even as Ryuji’s leg ached and protested the treatment. He’d be damned if he let something so small bother him when Akira was still curled in his arms wheezing like he couldn’t get any air into his lungs. 

Carefully, like Akira was made of nothing more than glass and taped together, even though he had seen the guy kick ass more times than he could count, Ryuji placed him on the bed in the attic, the angry reds and dark purples that mottled his face even more stark against the pure white pillows.

For a long moment, there was silence, each of them lost in their own minds like they were a labyrinth. 

They could've stayed like that indefinitely, with only the sound of Ann's nails tapping at the attic floor and Akira's labored breathing for company if it weren't for Futaba softly interrupting them after only a few moments, "I… uh… there's a doctor, I mean, I-I don't know them but A-Akira does…" Her voice was hoarse and soft like she had been crying for the last several minutes but didn't want anybody to hear. 

Clearing her throat, she continued, "She, uh… she comes by the cafe sometimes, and she and Akira will talk. From what I've heard she… she… knows," She gestured vaguely around her face to indicate the masks they wore in the Metaverse. 

Haru looked surprised at the information, blinking a few times before hesitantly asking, "Well… do we have a way to contact her?" 

Something familiar flashed in Futaba's eyes, something wicked and calculating and age-old that they knew to fear, "What do you take me for? Of course we can find a way to contact her." With that she skittered out of the room, returning soon after with a laptop balanced precariously on one arm, already tapping away on her keyboard. 

In the few agonizing moments of held breaths in shared spaces, Ryuji still hadn't torn his gaze away from the figure on the bed, almost as if the guilt had left him frozen to the floor, encased, kneeling, in the stone of his mistakes. 

"Got it!" Futaba crowed, and before he could deign to ignore the distraction, Ann leaned over to smack him upside the head with a pointed glare. "I've got her information and maybe a little bit some of the text conversations with Akira just so she knows were legit." She didn't sound sheepish about the invasion at all, "She's available pretty much 24/7, from what it looks like, as long as you let her know it's about her 'Guinea pig'" She wrinkled her nose slightly at the phrasing, just as Makoto murmured,

"What is he getting into?" Shaking her head as if to physically shed the thought, she continued, "Anyway, you have the number Futaba? I'll call her. I'm sure she'll be less than pleased with the intrusion so it's for the best." 

No one argued. They were all drained, physically and emotionally, happy to push the responsibility off to someone else.

With a little bit of soft conversation, Makoto was on the phone, and the rest of the group had migrated to sit around the bed, although Ann was trying her best to keep the mood up at least a little bit, talking lightly and earning small conversations back in return. It was enough. She couldn't expect more with the air still so heavy.

"Oh! Hello! No, I-I meant to call you. My name is Makoto Nijima, and I…  _ we _ need your help. It's about your… Guinea pig?" She cast a helpless glance at Futaba, who shrugged slightly, just as lost. Apparently, that elicited enough of a reaction that Makoto's gaze flickered back to a point in the far distance, unfocused, as she zeroed in on the conversation only she could hear, “O-Oh! Really? Thank you so much, we’ll make sure the door is unlocked for you.” With that, she pulled the phone from here, looking a little startled, but her lips curled into a small smile, “She said she’ll be here within the half-hour. I… honestly didn’t expect to go so well.” She admit, before standing. There was a moment of hesitation before she steeled her gaze, and when she next spoke it was sharp with a strict sort of certainty, “Ryuji can you help me? We need to get his shirt off so she can have access to his ribs. I… know they’re probably not in the best shape.” She had the grace to look sheepish as she said it, gaze flickering away to the floor as Ryuji’s expression darkened at the reminder.

It wasn’t as though anybody in the room had forgotten, but the way Ryuji winced at the words as though physically struck darkened any lightness they had managed to force into the atmosphere since arriving.

Clearing his throat, Ryuji nodded and stood, knees cracking at the movement, but he made no sign of discomfort at the sensation, “Yeah… yeah of course,” He agreed easily, but the warm edge of life that was normally so audible in his voice was missing, instead sounding distant and almost cold. 

Seeming to notice this, he attempted to send a reassuring smile their way, but judging by the frowns still etched deep into the lines of everyone’s faces, he missed the mark by a mile. It was probably just as well. Ryuji didn’t have the energy or the will to muster up his normal strong front. It wasn’t like he could hide what he had done. Not when the evidence of his failures was laying prone below them, decorated in reds and purples like he was the canvas for one of Yusuke’s paintings.

He and Makoto worked in tandem silence. There was no embarrassment or awkwardness about the ordeal, as a group who dealt with injuries fairly often they had long since moved past that. 

It was with a collective sharp intake of breath that they finished and settled Akira back into what they hoped could be a comfortable position. It wasn’t a nice sight, and Futaba had to bury her face behind a screen or risk bursting into tears once again, one leg bouncing from where they were crossed in her seat (balanced precariously on an arm of the old couch). Dark purple bruising had already (or maybe not already. Time worked differently in the Metaverse, so it was always hard to really tell) started to bloom across his torso, a deep almost black suspiciously shaped like a boot print darkened his right side, and Ryuji had to fight the urge to turn away.

He couldn’t give himself the luxury of looking away from the destruction he had given into. 

At the same moment, Ann began descending the stairs to the main cafe, there came a knock at the door, insistent and strong. 

Fate really did work in odd ways. Ryuji mused at the odd coincidence. Grimly, he wondered what it had wanted to say earlier when all he knew was his helplessness when it truly mattered. 

Before he could think too deeply on it, there were two pairs of light footsteps echoing up the stairs, and almost unconsciously he sat up straighter, leaning away slightly from Akira as if he could mask his guilt with a few centimeters of distance. Even leaning away slightly from Akira, he couldn’t bring himself to remove his hand from where it was gently brushing against Akira’s fingertips. Maybe it was selfish, but Ryuji was a protector at every corner of his heart, and the feather-light touch was the only way he could remind himself that despite everything Akira was still  _ there _ , and if anything else dared go wrong for him, Ryuji was right there to fight it off while he was vulnerable and exposed.

He didn’t let himself think about how the last time Akira had been vulnerable he had been rewarded with only injury from the person he had trusted enough to drop his guard for.

Makoto was the one to stand and properly greet Dr. Takemi as she entered, quickly offering a small bow, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. We didn’t know who else to contact considering our… situation,” She glanced uncertainly around at the rest of the group as she straightened.

Takemi’s unruffled exterior was a blessing to the shaken group as she brushed off the formal greeting with a small startled laugh, “There’s no need to be so formal. I haven’t been addressed that way for years,” Her unorthodox appearance barely garnered a second glance as she swept further into the room. 

After all, she was surrounded by an island of misfits. 

“And I’d certainly imagine your choice of after-school activity would limit your options,” She sounded amused, but the mirth dropped out of her expression as she drew level with where Akira lay, narrowing her eyes at the sight in front of her, and dropping the large bag she’d previously held over her shoulder. It landed with a loud thud as she crouched beside the bed, next to where Ryuji was folded in a similar position. She didn’t comment on his closeness.

Her eyes were sharp, dark like the abyss and there was an undertone of unspoken anger, Ryuji couldn’t suppress a shudder. He suddenly understood something about a cryptic conversation he had had with Akira a few months back, at about two in the morning one of the nights Akira would call him after a stressful night terror, where he had described the doctor as the embodiment of “Death Arcana”.

She moved with swift, deft movements, like watching a dancer who had grown to know the movements in their bones rather than just their mind. She lifted his eyelids and shined a light into his eyes, taking note of something before moving to gently feel along the line of his nose, and inspecting the cut on his lip that still trickled a thin stream of blood. Pursing her lips she made a few more notes before moving down to lightly trace the lines of his ribs, occasionally pressing a little harder than any of them would have liked, but no one dared comment and break the fragile focused silence. Finally, she took a moment to listen to his breathing before nodding and standing up straight, swiveling on her heel to face the majority of the group. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” She started, and a sigh of relief seemed to travel through the room like a breeze, “But it’s not pleasant either.” Ryuji’s gaze flickered to the floor, “He has a moderate concussion. Nothing really  _ concerning  _ he’s just going to be stuck in bed for a little bit, about two weeks  _ maybe  _ a little bit less if you can manage to actually get him to rest. I haven’t had any success there yet so I wish you luck.” Something wicked sharpened in Futaba’s gaze and Ryuji knew that if she managed to recruit Boss there was no way Akira would be seeing the light of day any time soon. “His nose is fractured. That’s why his breathing sounds the way it does. That’s not a big deal, really. I should be able to set it so it heals straight as well. The only thing that really concerns me is his ribs. I can’t tell for certain without an x-ray, but I’m fairly certain that at least two of them are broken. Nothing  _ awful _ . They’re not moving much or anything, but I want to keep an eye on them so they don’t become a problem.” She smiled slightly, trying to soothe the nervous teens, but she’d never been very good at the people side of her job, “I’m going to bandage and set everything I can up for now, but I don’t have everything I need with me, so I’ll be back tomorrow morning to check on him and finish everything up.” 

With that, she turned and set to work (although everyone winced when she went to stitch the cut in his lip closed, even if it was only a handful of stitches). With the same precise movements she had been using before, she set to work on putting a hard bandage over his nose and a soft bandage over his lip. It seemed deliberate on her part that she asked Ryuji to support Akira while she wrapped his ribs. He imagined it probably wasn’t hard to tell he was taking this harder than the others (except for maybe Futaba).

Although there was no way the doctor could guess why. 

But with Akira leaning heavily against him, head tucked securely against his shoulder, breath tickling his neck as Takemi worked quietly beside him to wrap Akira’s torso in stiff bandages, occasionally humming softly as her hands moved in quick circles… it was almost soothing. Something fragile and serene settled uneasily over his heart. 

Almost too soon, although it was odd to think of it that way, Takemi pulled back and packed everything in her bag, standing with a sigh, “That’s all I can do for him right now. I’d like for someone to keep an eye on him tonight, but he should be fine.” She offered a small, fleeting smile before straightening, “A house call will cost you, you know,” The corners of her mouth were tilted up into a smirk, although she startled more than anything else when Haru immediately jumped up and offered to pay,

“Oh, of course! How silly of us. How much -”

“I was kidding,” Takemi’s expression softened as she glanced back at where Akira was still being supported by Ryuji, “He’s pulled me out of more than one tight situation, and helped me on quite a few of my own activities. Think of this as me trying to make it even,” With that, she turned and descended the staircase, the last thing to disappear the crisp white ends of her tailcoat.

Yusuke broke the silence first, “It will never cease to amaze me how many connections he has managed to make in such a short time,” 

There were murmured agreements around the room, and the air seemed significantly lighter now that the worst of Akira’s injuries were hidden away behind the off-white of the gauze and they had been given tangible assurances that everything would be fine. 

Haru stood first, “Well, I should be going now that everything is settled. I’ll come by tomorrow to help out! I’m sure he won’t be happy stuck in bed for so long. He always seems to be doing  _ something _ ,” There didn’t need to be a discussion on who would be staying with Akira through the night. Not with the way Ryuji had refused to let Akira go from where he had settled against him, as if afraid any movement would shatter the peace Takemi had left in her wake. 

Makoto followed soon after, explaining how she couldn’t risk being questioned by her sister if she were out too late. 

It was a little bit later that Yusuke finally joined them, worrying about getting back to his dorms before they were locked for the night (because apparently, that was something fancy art schools did).

Ann stayed as long as she could, until she had to run to the station to catch the last train of the night with strict instructions that Ryuji text her the  _ moment  _ Akira woke up (“I don’t care if its four in the morning, I want to know the moment it happens. I’ll know if you bullshit me, Sakamoto, don’t think I won’t”). He couldn’t help but smile at the threats.

None of them held any ill will towards him for what had happened. They had all said as much before they left, or showed it in their actions.

And he appreciated it. He really did. But it wasn’t their reactions that had anxiety crawling at the edges of all his thoughts.

He would always blame himself, at least in part. And he was okay with that. Really, he was. He’d accepted it.

He wasn’t sure how he would take it if he had permanently damaged his bond with Akira. That was something he held close to his heart, what had kept him from ruin when it first burst into his life.

He’d only ever admit it to himself, but he couldn’t imagine a future for himself, a tomorrow for himself, without picturing Akira right there with him.

[ _ “You’ve got a place in the world too, right next to me!”] _

* * *

It was some hours later that Akira showed the first signs of regaining consciousness, after Ryuji had shifted the two of them so he was leaning back against the wall, legs stretched in front of him and Akira held securely against his side (he insisted it was to keep him from moving and hurting himself when he woke up. Really Ryuji found it immensely comforting to feel the solid warmth of Akira against him, and to be able to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest just to remind him that Akira was still  _ there.  _ He hadn’t taken that last step). With a low groan that startled Ryuji out of the light doze he had fallen into without meaning to, Akira’s eyes fluttered open, squinting even against the dim light. Ryuji immediately sat up straighter, all exhaustion from before vanishing at the small movement.

“Hey! ‘Kira, you with me?” He kept his voice quiet, before falling asleep he’d been doing some research on his phone on how to best people with injuries like Akira. His mom being a nurse helped out too. He knew if he was too loud he would only hurt him more.

He also knew Akira would probably be pretty confused when he woke up, so he wasn’t surprised when Akira just blinked sluggishly a few times before letting out another quiet noise and leaning his head back against Ryuji’s shoulder, the bandages wrapped around his temples doing little to deter him from the position. 

He knew if Akira were more aware he would never let himself look and act so vulnerable. He wasn’t sure how that thought made him feel.

Gently, he shifted his shoulder and sat up completely, although Akira still winced at the slight movement when he was forced back into wakefulness. 

It stung at the guilt already sat heavy in his heart, but he continued regardless, “Sorry, man. Doctor’s orders. Gotta check in on ya every few hours. She’s worried ‘bout your head,”

For a long moment, he met with only silence and worried Akira had already dropped back out of consciousness. 

“... Ryuji?” The voice that asked was small and hoarse, cracking at the edges, and it hurt just to hear.

“Yeah, dude, ‘s me.” 

Slowly and carefully, as though every movement was a Herculean effort, Akira leaned away from Ryuji and turned slightly so he was looking straight at the other. Even in the dim lighting, even dulled by exhaustion and pained, his eyes glittered like they were looking through him and right into the depths of his heart, even while Akira himself remained almost impossible to read. 

This was it. While he’d been doing his research he’d thought about it and figured there was no way he hadn’t completely ruined their friendship. Shit, he’s almost killed Akira there was no way the dude would forgive him for something like that and he couldn’t blame him. He knew it. But that didn’t mean he was ready to hear it. God, he wasn’t ready to hear it and he didn’t think he ever would be. Akira was his best friend - had saved him back when was so close to dropping out of school, when he’d thought it didn’t matter anymore. And this was how he repaid the guy. As his panic over the inevitable moment grew, his gaze instinctually flickered away - he couldn’t bear to watch Akira in that moment. It wasn’t how he wanted to remember him.

Which is why he was caught so off-guard when he was met with only a soft voice laced with worry despite its jagged edges, “Are you alright?”

He was in no way prepared for that question and whipped his wide-eyed gaze back to Akira so quickly he was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash.

“A-Am  _ I _ alright?” Ryuji repeated, incredulous as he took in the worry tainting Akira’s expression. He could hardly believe it. “Dude, I - are you serious?  _ Am I alright?  _ Dontcha think you should be more worried about yourself right now?” 

Akira offered only the barest of shrugs (he probably couldn’t manage much more than that in his current state), “I’m still alive, and I’ll recover. What more is there to worry about?”

The nonchalant response snapped the thing within Ryuji that had been holding back the turbulent emotions he’d been fighting with since he first realized Akira wasn’t going to fight back. 

“How can you just say that?! Just brush this whole thing off like nothing happened - like you didn’t almost  _ die _ !” He snapped, ignoring the heat prickling at the corners of his eyes and how Akira looked startled by his outburst. If his voice cracked when he continued, he ignored that too, “No, let’s be real here. Like I didn’t… like I didn’t almost  _ kill you,  _ Akira!” He was ready to continue, but was quietly interrupted,

“But you didn’t, did you?”

“That’s… that’s not the point! You can’t just be fine with this. Look at the state you’re in! You were out for  _ hours,  _ you can barely move, and you’re stuck on bed rest and it's  _ all my goddamn fault! _ ”

Akira’s expression shifted at the admission, and it looked immensely sadder, exhaustion softening its edges, “Ryuji.” He began, voice firm as he forced himself to sit up straighter, “Look at me.” 

Ryuji had hardly noticed he’d squeezed his eyes shut when Akira had spoken, trying to fight the wetness building at the corners. When he didn’t make an effort to move, he heard a quiet huff, followed by the sound of limbs slowly shuffling, and then something warm and soft gently cupping the side of his face. The sensation startled him enough that his eyes snapped open to look at Akira in shock, allowing a few of the tears to escape and slide down his cheeks, where Akira gently brushed them away with his thumb, a sad smile on his face. 

Akira was sitting so their knees were touching, the warmth there and of the hand on his face helping ground him, and he was leaning some of his weight on his other arm like he didn’t even have the energy to sit up straight. The sight stole away some of the warmth and kicked at his already battered heart. Reminded him that it was stupid and in no way fair that Akira was trying to comfort him in that moment when he could barely hold himself upright due to injuries caused by his own hand.

Akira seemed to notice where his gaze was, and repeated, voice strong, “Ryuji.” 

Almost guiltily, his eyes snapped up to meet Akira’s, and he was taken aback by the intensity he found there.

“Ryuji, none of this is your fault, okay?” Ryuji opened his mouth to protest, but Akira continued before he could, “No. I know you think it is. Did you choose to attack me? Is that what you wanted to do?”

After a moment of silence, Ryuji shook his head, and Akira’s expression softened, thumb moving in light circles over his cheekbone, “When me, or Ann, or any of the others are inflicted with a spell like that and act out, do you think that’s our fault, then?” 

His tone wasn’t accusatory at all. Still soft, and endlessly patient, but Ryuji still felt like it was targeted anyway, and sputtered at the implications, “W-What? No! The stupid Shadow did that to you -”

He was stopped when Akira lightly slapped his cheek, one eyebrow raised, “Exactly. So why is it any different for you, Ryuji?” 

Ryuji stuttered, trying and failing to come up with a retort while Akira just watched with the same expectant expression. Finally, he deflated with a sigh, and offered a small smile in return, watching the change in Akira’s expression as he returned it with a small, but genuine smile of his own.

Carefully, afraid of making the wrong move and hurting Akira more than he already had, he moved Akira’s hand away from his face, and gently wrapped the other boy up in a hug, relishing in his warmth. At first, Akira tensed, and Ryuji was afraid he was putting too much pressure on his ribs, but almost as soon as he began to worry, Akira melted into the embrace, arms circling his back and burying his face in his shoulder, a small laugh bubbling out of his chest, even if it was immediately followed by a sharp wince. 

The guilt wasn’t gone, it hadn’t entirely and magically disappeared within the span of a few minutes. But now, it was manageable. It sat heavy in his heart, but it didn’t eat away at his thoughts as it had before. 

Here, with Akira safe and warm against, wrapped securely in his arms like he could protect him from the worst of the world, he decided maybe it would be okay.

And as Akira went limp against him, breath slowly evening out as he nuzzled his face deeper into his shoulder (Ryuji would have to move him so he didn’t make his nose worse, but just for a moment, he decided to indulge himself) and the arms around his back fell loosely around his waist, he realized he wouldn’t trade the inextinguishable spark of fire and light that was Akira Kurusu for the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> i had to make it soft at the end they deserve it


End file.
